


In the Moments In-between

by etux



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Wandless Magic, bordering on poetry at times (i'm sorry?), of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etux/pseuds/etux
Summary: Credence doesn't know what to think of magic.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zinfandel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinfandel/gifts).



> I overused italics & probably went way too deep into associations and metaphors at times. But. I wish you had a nice Christmas & will have the greatest New Year. 

Credence doesn’t know what to think of magic.

 

Before -- before _leaving_ and _living_ and _Newt_ , before Credence knew _life without pain_ , _life_ he actually _likes_ \-- the only magic Credence knew was his own.

And that _angry_ and _hateful_ and _sad_ buzzing under his skin? That power welling from his hurt?

He feared it.

Feared himself when lost control, feared how _good_ it felt, every time - - to protect himself, to be _safe_ for a change. Feared he would get lost in the power, and feared he _wouldn’t care_. Feared how _easy_ and _right_ and _justified_ it felt back then.

But it’s not the only magic he knows anymore.

Because Newt has magic too.

And it doesn’t buzz under his skin angrily, waiting to _burst out_ and _destroy_. It sits calmly in his heart, and listens to Newt’s wishes and follows the swishes and flicks of his wand.

Credence knows this because he _listens_ and _follows_ and _observes_.

First he did it all in the covers. He trailed behind Newt on his every step - followed him on a boat, and then to another. Cloaked himself with shadows and kept quiet, kept _looking_ and _learning_.

And after a while -- when Newt had deemed it to be the time, when _he_ had thought Credence would be ready, ready to step from the corners to the center, ready to _speak_ \-- Credence took the extended hand he was offered. Accepted the _care_ and _friendliness_ and _love_ he was offered.

Let Newt _in_ with no intention of letting him _go_.

Lucky for him - - - _lucky_ , what a silly word, like Credence has _ever_ been _lucky_ , except, well, _now_ \- - - Newt didn’t seem to want to let go either. And so they tangled together. Intertwined their lives carefully, carelessly, _irreparably_.

They found each other in the small things, in the moments in-between, in everything _dull_ and _regular_ and _oh so extraordinary_.

In routines like - eating together in comfortable silence, no pressure for either to be normal, to act like others do - - Newt teaching Credence the world of magic, the friendly and fantastic beasts, the _spells_ and the _tricks_ \- - - Credence offering _silent comfort_ and _safety_ and _warmth_ when _Newt_ is the one to be overwhelmed by the world around them. In afternoon tea and joined hands. In _laughter_ and _tears_ and _rapid heartbeat_ , hastened by irrational panic.

In companionship. In _no longer loneliness_.

 

So.

Credence doesn’t know what to think of magic.

In one hand it’s what scares him most, what caused all his troubles and ruined his existence - -

(of course, rationally, he knows this isn’t true, that what took his life and crumbled it wasn’t the magic in his veins, but the ignorance of others)

(but rationality has little space in the matters of trauma)

(heart and mind believe in the simplest option, and simplest doesn’t mean easy or right)

(the ignorance is in our nature)

(doesn’t make anything easier to forgive)

(not that he has to)

(or even should)

\- - and on the other it’s Newt. His new life. What _saved_ him and what _keeps_ him.

 

Magic: the power, the threat and the safety. The only paradox in Credence’s life that’s more impossible than his own existence.

Hate and love and fear and pain and compassion and _life_.

He’s learned he’s all of those things.

And so is magic.

 

(he probably should’ve figured it out sooner - it’s magic buzzing under his skin, after all - of course they are the same when _they are the same_ )

 

***

 

Newt waves his wand over their coffee mugs - - it’s coffee and not tea because it’s Tuesday and Tuesdays are Credence’s day to choose - - and mutters something. Steam starts rising from the mugs, and Newt smiles a little as he nods to himself.

“Yes, good, good, and now,” Newt mumbles to himself - a habit that hasn’t disappeared just because he doesn’t _have to_ speak only to himself now - and a habit Credence hopes _never does_ disappear, because it’s _calming_ and _familiar_ and _endearing_. “Now the sugar and - and _cream…_ ”

Credence takes a calming breath before he can think better of it, and waves his hand.

The same exact _flick_ , _flick_ , _swish_ , he’s seen Newt do a dozen times. Not for _this_ particular spell, maybe, but Credence doesn’t have the words it either, so it isn’t _that_ exact.

Both the sugar and the cream fly to them, setting down carefully right next to the coffee mugs.

Newt almost drops his wand.

“ _Credence_ ,” he says with wide eyes and so much _wonder_ and _affection_ in his voice Credence doesn’t know what to do with them. “ _Did you just?_ Without a _wand?_ And without _words?_ ”

Credence can feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He nods.

 

This time Newt drops his wand.

He needs both his hands to hold Credence’s face when he kisses him, after all.


End file.
